


Hearts don't Flutter, they Beat

by junebugtwin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adam Taurus Being an Asshole, Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pre-Canon, its just me being upset about Blake's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugtwin/pseuds/junebugtwin
Summary: Blake's thirteen, and she's too open, too nervous, too naive.Blake's sixteen and she's not.
Relationships: technically Blake Belladonna/Adam Taurus
Kudos: 11





	Hearts don't Flutter, they Beat

(13)

Blake’s never been great at lying- she blames her good relationship with her parents. There’s no need for a kid to learn to hide stuff if they know they can tell their parents anything. Well, almost anything.

Whatever. She doesn’t care.

Anyway, she’s not any good at lying, and hiding your emotions is like, advanced lying. Because you’re not just telling people one false thing, its thousands of little false things, and you’re not trying to convince them you have different feelings, your trying to convince them you have none.

Which is impossible! And also she sucked at it. Case in point, her struggle to hide her surprise as Sorrel Rayé trudged through the mud towards her. She valiantly tries to school her facial features into cool neutrality, but probably just ends up looking vaguely anxious. Adam’s always saying that worry’s her default setting.

Which, well, she quite frankly is. Sorrel was fierce and bold, and besides that, really intelligent! He had so many opinions on what they should be doing, or what they weren’t doing right- which wasn’t exactly unheard of- the White Fang was practically comprised of ‘strong’ personalities even back when her dad was in charge. But he was only a few years older than her and already had a much stronger grip of what was going on. Despite having pretty important parents Blake had always had an easier time understanding ethics and morals than politics and plans. She used to think that she was better off like that, but…it was starting to seem a little naïve now.

She was starting to realize maybe she was a little naïve in general.

Regardless, she doesn’t understand why he’d want to talk to her- which he probably did. As a new recruit her tent was in the lower part of the swamp- not quite in the actual water yet, but pretty close. And pretty miserable. If Blake was him she’d never come over here short of being chased.

“Hey, Blake, can I talk to you?” He asks, fluffy striped tail twitching upwards to avoid the soggy ground at his feet. Blake swallows, a little nervous, and shuffles a bit backwards on her cardboard ‘porch’ that sat in front of her tent. He takes it as the invitation that it is and steps forward, looking relived as his boots touch dry ground, albeit only relatively.

“What’s up?” She asks, barely stopping herself from clutching at her arm unsurely. Sorrel sighs, rubbing a tan hand through his ruffled hair, looking somewhat frustrated.

“You know I’ve been trying to convince Sienna into the demolition plan.” It’s not a question, it’s pretty much public info at this point- secrets are a group effort in the fang. She answers regardless, nodding the affirmative. She doesn’t want to annoy him, not when she still doesn’t really understand why he’s talking to her, some grunt, about this.

“Well, it’s not exactly going great. I’m not her favorite really.” He pauses, eyes moving from gazing aggressively at the scenery to look at her thoughtfully. She shifts.

“But I know there is someone who she _would_ talk to.” For a minute Blake runs a blank, wondering with astonishment in he’s somehow talking about her. Which would be really fricken weird, seeing as her and Sienna had a rather awkward relationship to begin with. Blake was the ex-White Fangs leaders’ daughter, which was not a comfortable position to be in always.

She blinks suddenly, understanding what he’s referring to abruptly. _Adam_. Well that made a lot more sense! Yeah, Adam was pretty liked by the higher ups, especially their new leader. It made sense to her, he was probably one of their best fighters, and he was really brave and smart and stuff. If not a bit intense sometimes.

Sorrel came to her because she was Adams apprentice of sorts. Well, sometimes it felt like they had a closer relationship than that, but it was pretty much accurate. He did teach her a lot.

Anyway, she knew him better than most people probably- everybody knew him, and usually liked him, but he didn’t form very many personal relationships. Blake tries to come up with something to say.

“He might help you, but if you’re going to try to convince him, you’ll uh, need to make your plan a little more- more similar to his style.” She finishes embarrassed that she doesn’t quite know how to phrase this. Thankfully Sorrel mostly just looks interested.

“Okay yeah- what is his ‘style’ though? I can never tell what that guys thinking.” He jokes and Blake can’t help but chuckle- she knows what he means.

“ Well, I don’t know how much this will help but, I know that he doesn’t normally like plans where we don’t use most of our resources and stuff- so maybe, you could, I don’t know, bolster the part with the cars, get more sturdy trucks?” She suggests skeptically. She doesn’t really know what she’s talking about, but she does know that Adam hates doing anything halfway. Sorrels eyes brighten as she speaks and he begins to grin confidently.

“That’s great! Thanks for the help kid!” He laughs, the raccoon faunus turning around sharply, apparently struck with some sort of realization. Blake watches him leave, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders at the chilly breeze. Well, she’s just glad she could be of assistance, he seemed nice enough.

\----

(16)

Blake swears under her breath, finally giving up on disinfecting the cuts on her arm and instead just wrapping a semi-clean bandage over them. There’s no real alternative to getting glass buried in the skin of one’s arm, seeing as it’s done only as a barrier for your face. And this has been a shitty enough week without picking fucking shards of glass out of her cheeks, thanks.

Still, she doesn’t have to like it- she’s tired of getting peppered with all these tiny little cuts that sting like a bitch and inevitably end up scarring. But then, maybe it’s a little late to start thinking about her vanity she supposes drily.

Despite hearing him coming far before she sees him, her ears remain pointed forwards, flicking casually at the soft breeze or a squirrels chatter. She suspects its him already, but as he gets close enough to scent her suspicions are confirmed.

Sorrel. The man of the hour. Blake feels an intense beat of annoyance and aggression. Stupid punk didn’t know when to keep his dumb mouth shut recently, and she could tell he thought he was a big man because of it. What he was, was _dead_ if he kept this shit up. No sense of discretion, or subtly- just said whatever he pleased, as if there weren’t any consequences. As if people didn’t disappear all the time around here.

Blake keeps her eyes focused on her arm, taking extra care to cover all her wounds and tie the bandages securely, even as his shoes enter her field of vision. She stays silent, waiting for him to speak first. She hears a sigh.

“Blake.” He states plainly, sounding a little exasperated, and she feels a pulse of irritation at his carelessness. 

“Brother Rayé.” She answers in a reasonable tone, still fiddling idly over her arm. She can’t believe he’s just casually using her first name.

“You can’t seriously agree with him.” He growls, sounding slightly pained. Blake looks up slowly, meeting his mossy green eyes with a calm coldness she doesn’t feel. He’s frowning, the expression tugging on his skin harshly, giving him stressed wrinkles no nineteen year old should have. His face is pretty scarred up these days, more proof of his recklessness.

“And why not exactly.” She pretends to ask, ears moving slightly every few seconds, straining to make sure no one is close enough to overhear this conversation. Its lucky Blake’s tent is so much higher up on the hill than most.

“Because he’s- it’s _crazy_! This- this is beyond making a statement, this is- its _evil_.” He replies passionately, tail lashing frustratedly behind him. Blake leans against the birch tree beside her, gazing at him coolly and with no expression.

“You don’t think it makes a statement.” She deliberately misinterprets, satisfied when his brows scrunch in resentment. She can hear his breathing increase from here, and she’s almost ashamed to be his commander- this is sloppy. She understands his concerns of course- the new plan _is_ evil. It’s awful. It does nothing but kill innocents and provoke their enemy into even more extreme reactions. It’s worse than anything Adams ever pried out of that disturbed brain of his before, the blood that’s going to stain them is going to be big enough to swim in. When he first told her about it she had spent all of the night curled into a small ball, feeling sick to her stomach.

“ I can’t – I don’t believe that you really don’t care about this at all- if you come with me, and back me up at the meeting then we’ll have a much better chance of convincing him! He actually _listens_ to you.” He pleads, stepping towards her, his naturally taller form towering over her. Blake feels an overwhelming wave of helplessness- he really, _legitimately_ thought Adam gave a shit about her opinion.

She wants to tell him exactly what Adam does to her when she dares to disagree openly, when she dares to do anything passionately that doesn’t fit under the umbrella of his expectations. Wants to ask him if he noticed that she didn’t get these bruises on the last mission, or if he wants to ask more and more of her without understanding what she puts at risk for even just talking to him.

Instead she fixes him with her most cold glare, letting her golden eyes drip palpable disdain.

“I don’t know what strange assumptions you’re under Rayé, but I am not on your side. I am Adams lieutenant and right hand- this is plain insubordination, done in broad daylight and with utter stupidity. There is nothing preventing me from informing our General of this little incident.” She speaks completely toneless, keeping her gaze pinned mercilessly to Sorrels own. The boy pales, mouth going slack, eyes widening with dread and alarm. He’s at least smart enough to know what this could mean for him.

She lets the stunned silence drag on for a moment, not even blinking as she stares him down.

“Huh. Look at that, nothing to say. What a nice change.” She says quietly, and he flinches, looking wary and humiliated.

“This coming month you are going to do me a favor. In fact, you’re going to do me several favors- whatever, and whenever I feel like it.” She speaks calmly, letting the threat sink in. Of course, she was never going to tell Adam anything, but that didn’t make sense, not for the mysterious and merciless shadow of Adam Taurus.

Sorrel huffs, nodding his head reluctantly, looking disappointed in her. It stings a little, this perceived betrayal, but it’s the most she can offer him. She peers at him intensely for a second more before ducking her head back down to her injured arm- a clear and insulting dismissal. Sorrel turns around, not even bothering to give her a goodbye- not that she blames him.

“And Rayé?” She calls out softly, listening as his dejected boot steps halt at her call. 

“Do me a solid this meeting and shut your fucking mouth for once.” She says, the negativity in her words not reflected by the serenity of her tone.

All she can hope is that he heeds her warning.


End file.
